The Grasp of Insanity
by Faore
Summary: The four remaining Ronin Warriors decide to play an all-or-nothing game. Can they save Ryo by defeating Katsuro? Win or lose. Live or die. Ryo torture fic.
1. The Horrors Reach Out

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ronin Warriors, nor do I posses the wit to phrase that I do not own this anime in any other manner.  
  
This is my very first fan fiction. It was beginning to gather dust, so I decided to give it a chance by posting it. My writing style has progressed, and when I post more recent stories, you may see a difference between then and now. I began this story about two years ago, and I haven't touched it much since. I posted a little less than half of it because I wanted to divide it into chapters. Please enjoy and review- if time permits. -------  
  
"Come to the shade. Oh, so pleasant shade, my boy. The light is bound to bore you. Don't be frightened. Don't you feel the black power surging through you?" A sly, insidious voice coaxed.  
"Stay away from me! I will kill you, demon!"  
"Young master, why must you resist? The darkness is so beautifully tempting. Don't you want to come with me?" The blackness evolved and a twisted black shadow stepped out of the dark. The phantom figure held out a crippled hand. Its claws slowly retracting with every deep, slow breath. Its fingers did not tremble, but the skinless palm melted with thick, red blood that aged on contact with the air. The blood dripped slowly as if painfully reaching its destination.  
The young man's midnight blue eyes widened in fear as he tried to run away. His brain screamed to him. Run, run, run! You cannot fight. His hands were chained to a stone wall that was slowly crumbling as he as he struggled to break free. The thick, spiked chains bore thick gashes in the boy's wrists. Expectantly, he waited to feel for the blood to smoothly slither to his shoulder. Only, blood did not appear. Rigid onyx glided like silk rivulets along his forearms. The liquid rock transformed into fanged serpents which twisted along the pulsing muscles of the boy. They repeatedly circled tighter, weaving through his arms. And then, their fangs shattered the boy's skin. The demon laughed as it came closer and closer to the fear stricken boy. Then, the demon pushed closer until he was only inches from the boy's face. There, he placed his bloodied hands on the boy's forehead. Old blood dripped into the boy's eyes like a river after a tsunami. The boy could only see the blackness. A cry of terror sounded.  
  
"Ryo! Ryo, calm down!" A deep voice spoke in the night. Then a pair of strong, lean hands gently clasped the boy's shaking shoulders. An intense, concerned face came into Ryo's sight.  
"Rowen," he panted, "It's calling me! I can't stop it anymore. It won't leave me. I can't rest, I-I-I can't think!"  
"Calm down, it was just a dream. It's not real."  
"No, it's real! It won't stop, it won't stop until...." Ryo's voice trailed off as his fierce, glazed eyes widened.  
"Until what?" Rowen questioned.  
"Hey, what happened here? What's wrong?" Kento, Cye, and Sage, all in boxers, entered the room that Rowen shared with Ryo.  
"Ryo had a nightmare. I think he's burning up with a fever too." Rowen reported.  
"Lemme see. I'll take a look at him." Sage said as he stepped forward from the doorway.  
"No, it wasn't a nightmare," Ryo shouted," It was real! And, we can't fight it! You," Ryo said swallowing, "Can't even see it!"  
Sage cautiously lifted his hand over to Ryo's pale, sweating forehead. Ryo tried to pull away, but Rowen's quick, steady hands kept Ryo in place. Beads of sweat trailed down Ryo's brow. Kento and Cye hastily came over to Ryo's bedside to take a closer look.  
"Ryo, hold still, man. You need to rest, and calm down!" Kento said without a touch of his usual vibrancy.  
"Don't worry, buddy! We'll get you some help." Cye added, though his eyes looked doubtful.  
"There's no time! He's coming now." Ryo's statements came out in short gasps as he paused between each sentence as to catch his breath. "We can't just sit here. We have to be ready for the time."  
"No, Ryo. You have to calm down." Rowen stated as he tried to hold Ryo back. But Ryo kept trying to push himself off his bed so he could stand up. Sage stepped in front of Ryo and Rowen in case Ryo escaped. Ryo kept struggling against Rowen, and finally he attempted to break free of his friend's strong grasp. Quickly, Ryo came to his feet and attempted to run out of the room through Sage. Halfway across the room, Kento ran over to block Ryo by heading him off at the door. Ryo moved quickly, but with cumbersome steps that made him an easy target to catch. He tried to push past Kento, but Kento caught his feverish friend while Cye ran over to help.  
"Come here guys! Ryo, stop it!" Cye shouted just as he reached Ryo near the door.  
"Kento, let me go! Let go!" Ryo struggled against the arms and hands of his four friends and finally, his fighting spirit weakened. Ryo's body went limp. Without words, Sage looped Ryo over his arms and carried him back to his bed, while the others followed in pursuit.  
"Rowen, go get a glass of water and some medicine. I don't know what kind we need to administer. Find whatever you can for a fever. Kento, a cold washcloth. Cye, you stay here with me in case anything else happens. He's unconscious, but he's still fighting something. I can feel it," said Sage.  
Ryo appeared to falling into a sound sleep. Sage and Cye cautiously watched Ryo intently as they talked in whispered and hushed voices in the corner across the room.  
"We have to get his fever down," Sage said, "I think he's delirious."  
"We're doing the best we can right now. Do you think he's imagining things? Could evil really be torturing him?" Cye questioned.  
"I have no idea how to weigh what he says against his past experiences. We all know that Ryo has always been haunted in his sleep. I doubt he easily forgets his nightmares when he's awake."  
"Perhaps," Cye started cautiously, "It's a combination of all his nightmares, like they're finally catching up to him. Ryo's been holding all his feelings inside, he's never told us about any of his dreams. The only way that we know is that because we can hear him murmuring in his sleep at night. One person can only take so much emotion."  
"I think it may be more than just a buildup of stress. His mind wouldn't be troubling him so much just because of a dam effect. The water has to push through eventually, but the dam can be rebuilt even if only fragments remain."  
Kento practically fell into the room. Panting, he handed the soaking towel over to Cye. While briskly walking over to Ryo's side, Cye muttered something about the power of his virtue. Gently, Cye placed the cold cloth on Ryo's forehead. Smoothing it into place, he put the back of his hand against Ryo's cheek.  
"Is he any better yet?" Kento asked quietly.  
"He stopped moving. I don't know whether to take that as a good thing or a bad thing." Sage answered. "What took you so long, anyway? The sink in the bathroom is practically two feet away!" Sage inquired, his voice raising.  
"Hey, sorry! It's raining outside and I thought that water straight from the clouds would be better for Ryo that water stuck in those metal pipes all day. Besides, we thrive on nature. You never lose your temper, don't start now." Kento replied.  
"Yeah, something's certainly wrong when Kento uses his head." Cye jested.  
"Hey, why are all of you laughing?" Rowen asked when he entered the room with a pitcher of water and a handful of bottles. "This is serious, no time for laughing. I couldn't find any medicine for pain or fevers. I guess we were never very sick before."  
Walking over to Rowen, Kento grabbed the medicine bottles and looked them over.  
"Let's see, "he muttered, "Cough syrup, stomach settler, and hey, what's this? MIDOL?"  
"Uh, I guess Mia forgot something when she left last year to go back to the university." Sage offered.  
"Sure, this would be a help if Rowen was coughing uncontrollably, Cye at some raw, poisonous fish, and if I, no wait, if some woman needed Midol." Kento angrily shouted.  
"If you would stop shouting, you would see that we need something and we can't wait for it. All the stores are closed now and if we call a doctor, that could take hours!" Cye said.  
All of the young men in the room were silent in thought or in hopelessness. Time passed and nothing was accomplished...  
  
A soft melody played as if Ryo were trapped in a music box. The chimes tinkled in the soft breeze that did not exist. Their were no walls to this place. A blanket of gray mist acted as the sky. Through the mist, a white, cloudless sky poked through. The ground was a dry desert mantle. It was cracked and caked with sand. But, somehow the air was fresh from a new rain. Children's laughter sprinkled the ambiance of the delusion. Their playful glee echoed against the walls of the illusion until their presence was known before Ryo.  
A small girl who was barely out of her toddler years came forward. The playful smile faded on her round, cherubic face. Her doe eyes glimpsed into Ryo's own eyes. He stood there in a trance, not able to move due to the little girl's forwardness. Her eyes looked as though she was ready to cry at any moment, but yet they looked dead, as though she knew crying would do no good.  
"I am your innocence. I am dead." Stated the young girl in an eerie monotone fashion. She pulled out a spiked dagger from underneath her short lavender dress. Ryo moved to stop her, but she smiled meekly and shook her head. Her soft russet curls bobbed back and forth destroying the framed effect they created around her face earlier. Ryo regained his aspiration and took a step towards the girl. The girl looked calmly at Ryo, her eyes never leaving his face. She then inhaled deeply and blew air out from her mouth. The air laced between Ryo's legs preventing him from moving forward any further. The immensity on Ryo's legs was not unbearable, but it was not comfortable.  
After restraining Ryo, she took the dagger to her heart and stabbed herself. Ryo gasped, his mouth gaped open in disbelief. His eyes grew wide and round.  
"You can't save me," the girl said as she fell to the ground on her knees, "You can't save yourself, it would be impossible. I am your spirit of innocence. I am dead."  
The words coming from the girl's mouth sounded odd. The words did not fit the composition of her body. The words spoken knew of the world and of its pains. Child after child walked up to Ryo and killed themselves. Each stating that they were part of him. Spirits of love, belief, anguish, humanity, and existence each took their turn in front of him. And each time they remained to appear in the form of a child.  
After every time a child had taken his or her own life, Ryo felt part of himself dying, like they had said. Only they had said that those parts of him had already died, a long time ago. He had tried to move to stop them from slaying themselves, but by the time they were all gone, his arms had been restrained in the form of a cross. His back and chest felt as though they were tied to wooden boards and could not move. Ryo stood there, as if a ghost. A single tear streamed down to his cheek. He screamed in exasperation as the dead children lay before his feet.  
  
A/N: Okay, that's it for now. I would love to hear from you, and I certainly hope I have time to continue this story. 


	2. Symbols of Slaughtered Innocence

Disclaimer: *chants* I don't own the Ronins... I don't own the Ronins..  
  
A/N: Thank you to all of you who wrote reviews. They are quite encouraging- so encouraging that I pumped out another chapter of the story. Once again, I really appreciate the support- it's what makes me tick, my friends. Away we go!  
  
"We have to...help him by using the powers of our armors," Sage said reluctantly.  
"The whole thing could backfire and we could be in an even worse position from where we started!" Rowen said forcefully.  
"Well, I don't wanna sit here and wait for something bad to happen. If having more things go wrong is even possible." Kento said, sounding agitated. He started to pace across the room with his arms crossed behind his back. He began muttering barely audible words.  
"He said we couldn't see it. How are supposed to fight it?" Cye pondered aloud.  
"You're actually listening to what he was saying?" Rowen questioned.  
"Rowen, Ryo's not stupid. He's logical, usually." Sage retorted.  
"I didn't say he was. But, you know how emotional he can get sometimes. Yeah, he may try to hide it, but we can all tell when he's trying to hide something."  
"Wait, guys," Cye said as he stepped in between Rowen and Sage, "Stop arguing for now. If what Ryo was talking about was real or even if it wasn't, we have no way of finding out. His mind may be troubled, but we're going to have to help his body."  
"Let's go back to discussing healing. We have to use to power of the armors." Sage said.  
"We have to use the power of the armors? What are we gonna do? Bash Ryo to death?" Kento questioned.  
"Kento, lay off." Rowen ordered.  
"Sorry guys. But that sounds like a bad idea. We could kill Ryo in his condition. Plus, what if a bad thing happens to use while we have our armors on? We're not all-powerful. Remember what happened last time? We were captured! The once invincible Ronin Warriors kidnapped, while wearing their armor- their sacred armor!" Kento shouted hysterically.  
"That was a different time. We're stronger now." Sage said sounding like he was trying to convince himself.  
"I don't care if we're in danger. Neither should you, Kento. I thought you were more altruistic," Rowen stated.  
"So, now you've changed sides, Rowen? And leave it to you to use big words when we're in a mess" Kento asked.  
"Kento, don't say sides, you make this thing sound like a war. Sacred protection or not, let's suit up boys!" Sage bellowed into the cold twilight.  
"Aw, I can't believe you said that! Suit up? What is this, 1989?" Kento exclaimed.  
"Dammit, Kento. Just do it." Sage cried in frustration.  
  
The bonds holding him were gone. He was alone. Once the invisible bonds had vanished, he had fallen to the ground. Not allowing himself to cry over a nightmare any longer, he lazed in a trance. Swallowing was a chore; he felt the tears beginning to well up inside once again.  
"Weakling!" he muttered to himself, "You overthrew the greatest evil of the world, and yet, you cry for a vision. Why? I hate you, weakling! You were always weak. You're alone because no one cares for you! Do you really think they care about you, or your sacred armor? You shed one tear, and you will shed no more!" He put his head in his hands and proved to himself that he had weaknesses- he had shed a tear.  
Whether hours passed or seconds crawled, he did not know. That tear fell for the fear that he bottled inside. The tear streamed for his loneliness in the life he lived. He knew the tear that descended from the corner of his eye represented a bead of his own weakness. During that spell of time, he knew he could hide not hide from his weaknesses.  
"I will die weak." Ryo repeated the words as if they were the prophecy of his destiny. The boy stood up and supported himself on shaking knees for a short moment. His legs gave way after a few cumbersome steps and he fell awkwardly to the cracked ground. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, he paused, breathing heavily. A flicker of black passed threw the corner of his eye. He froze, waiting. Cold sweat formed on the back of his neck. Blackness-himself. He noticed marks on his hands and arms. Lowering himself back down to a kneeling position on the ground, he sat to examine the symbols covering his skin. Giving them a closer inspection, he gasped. There were black tattoos etched into his skin. There was not an inch of his skin on his arms that was spared of the ink. The symbols were unrecognizable to him. It seemed as though they were in an alien language. He repositioned himself so he could thrust both arms together. The boy compared the symbols on his arms that were plaguing his skin. He noticed that both arms had the same print on the them.  
The boy slid his fingers across the black ink, starting at his fingertips on his left arm. Tracing the figures, he followed them up to his shoulder, where they came to an abrupt stop, as though incomplete. Finding that he had given no thought to his outer appearance before discovering the symbols, the boy looked over himself, curious of the condition of his exterior. He realized that he had loose, russet pants that were fabricated from a pliable suede material. Discovering that he had no shirt on, he admonished himself in his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed that his chest was bare. Thinking back moments ago, he didn't remember the sensation of being bare-chested. He made a silent vow to explore his environment and his condition before confronting a situation. He attempted to force himself to forget what had happened earlier, whether it had been hours or seconds. He only wanted to focus on things he could control.  
"Except for the fact that I can't control anything." He thought. Picking himself up, the boy journeyed for a destination unknown to himself.  
  
A/N: Okay, that's the second chapter. Shorter than the last, but it's important to the story. In the next chapter, I will introduce a new character to the plot. *gasp* Yes, yes, more to come. As always, please review if you have the time- I value your thoughts. 


	3. Admitting Helplessness

Disclaimer: I don't own the Ronins. I don't own Sunrise. I do own this story.  
  
A/N: Thank you to all of you who reviewed my story. I was a little frustrated when I first published it, seeing as everyone who had written a Ronin Warriors story decided to publish them at the same time. Seeing as it was winter break, I should have anticipated that. I'd like to thank all of you who possessed enough patience to continue encouraging me. This chapter starts off with a new character that will be vital to the story. I hope to work on the next chapter soon.  
  
"Fair is the ice that forms into bells Chilling the murky mane Driving the elegant toward power Making the slaves insane Glazing fully the forbidden skin That withers under shadowed light The blessed find comfort in committing sin And they receive kismet from the night Two forces, both but wrong and right Each voice, taking pride In the other's plight"  
  
Detrimentus ceased his chant. His appetite for strife felt complete- for the moment, at least. The withered creature tugged at the rags that covered his body. They chaffed his scales and pulled at the small hairs covering his arms and legs. But Talpa had assured Detrimentus that the deal would not be called off. There were riches waiting for the emaciated demon- it was power that he truly craved, but Talpa had offered fortune, not almighty omnipotence. Detrimentus knew that riches could buy allegiance from the desperate.  
A cackle filled the endless night. It echoed through the crumbling walls of the dungeon. "Talpa, you fool!" Detrimentus spat. "I will play your games, but I shall not abide by the rules." Rolling over to lay on his back, he looked over to the shafted grid that let a small bit of moonlight into the cell. His eyes swelled with darkness and he sneered at the light. "The spell has been set, and the boy is yours, Talpa. But do not think that you will not engage in my game. My rules, my amusement, and then, you will know fear. It will clench you like an iron glove. It will slap your face and spit in your eyes! By then, you would have had your warrior under your gaze. Under my spell, he will give his tears to you. You would have had him slice his fragile human skin, just so you can be pleased for your own means. Talpa, I will stand by and watch you accept his offer for blood! I will be there to watch you smile, as the boy draws nearer to destruction. I will place my gaze upon your eyes as he does your will. I will be there, Talpa, when your mind reaches out to his hallucinations. I will place schemes under my skin while you turn his heart to hollowness."  
"I will be waiting, just for you to enrapture a trophy from your glorious hunt. But none will be so glorious as my role of the hunter."  
  
Bitter. Rage. Falling. Breath. Dancing. Coiled. Doom. The Apocalypse was nearing.  
  
His right hand was gone. His wrist abruptly ended. His arm- his wrist- a small stub. Blood oozed from the wound. He remembered looking at it, as though he couldn't believe it was... gone. He had recalled petting something soft. It had moved up and down, radiating warmth. It had flinched at the touch of a hand, and its head retracted. The soft thing had pounced. His right hand was gone.  
Wistful reality slapped Ryo like an icy gauntlet. His body jerked violently. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ryo's left hand felt for his right - fingers, a palm, and flesh and bone connected to a wrist. Had it really been a nightmare? It had seemed so real to him. Fragments of a dream scattered around in Ryo's brain. He had been in the city, near the old toy store. It was cold outside. He could see his breath when he exhaled. The streetlights had not come on yet, the sun had winked its last ray and sank. No one said a word as they walked on the sidewalks, each individual wrapped up in their own dream, hugging themselves for warmth. The cold stung Ryo's face, but he stood there by the toy store, looking in at the window display. He had never seen swords for sale at a toy store. He wondered who would ever buy weapons for a child. The thought scared him. After a few moments, Ryo pulled himself away from the toy store window, disturbed by the swords. Out of habit, the boy turned to tousle White Blaze's mane.  
That's when it happened. White Blaze's teeth sank into Ryo's flesh and bone. The hand was gone. White Blaze had looked calmly into Ryo's distraught eyes. Blood dripped from White Blaze's muzzle, and the hand was wedged between the tiger's jaws. Ryo cried out in agony, his face a mask of confusion and fear. After his cry waned, he heard the tiger growl. It was low, deadly, angry sound; and that was the only sound Ryo heard as the tiger pounced.  
  
The Ronin Warriors stood in the bedroom, crowded together. Their armors were wide and thick, making it difficult to move around the cramped room.  
"Well, now that we've suited up," Kento began, "What should we do?"  
He was answered with silence. He threw his arms up in frustration only to hit Rowen in the eye and righthook Cye in one swift motion. Rowen shouted in pain and Cye managed to yell something in British slang before instinctively putting his hand to his face.  
"Kento! What the hell is wrong with you?" Rowen shouted furiously.  
"Wha di ye pawn me? Ye noh betta en 'at." Cye muffled, while cradling his jaw.  
"Let's move it in the living room before Kento tramples Ryo." Sage said, motioning to the bedroom door.  
"Did I say I was sorry yet?" Kento asked.  
"Noh, ye din et." Cye answered, as he was making his way out of the bedroom.  
"Then, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just pissed, man. We don't know what the hell is going on, and I'm..."  
"Hun gee?" Cye offered.  
"Yeah, I'm hungry, but there are more important things to worry about. I hate sitting here, not being able to do anything about Ryo," Kento said, looking down at the ground in shame.  
"Kento, this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now," Sage began, "But I've got to be honest with you. There's nothing we can do."  
Kento opened his mouth to say something, but closed it after a moment, knowing that Sage was right.  
  
A/N: So, there you are. Detrimentus is intriguing, to say the least. I'll grammar-check this story later, seeing as I wanted to publish this as soon as possible. Next chapter, I hope to focus wholly on Ryo, or at the least, his part of the story will be the majority of the text. As always, review, please. 


	4. Temple of Mortality

Disclaimer: Sadly, no Ronins for me. So, in other words, I don't own them. Though, I do own a nice new car. That's beside the point.  
  
A/N: Argh, it's been quite a while. I have to be in the right mood to write. The chapter is longer than the others, and I'm quite proud of this one. Just beware of spelling goofs. My stupid word processor decided to stop spellchecking my work, so I did my best with a quick glance. Please excuse any small mistakes and enjoy!  
  
A dream within a dream. A nightmare within reality. What had happened? Ryo forced himself to open his eyes. His eyelids slowly obeyed, opening like rusted iron gates. His vision was met with pure blue sky, swimming with fluffy white clouds that resembled marshmallows and cotton, soaring in the atmosphere, like fish in a bowl.  
  
Tentatively, Ryo flexed his hands; they were both there. He raised himself from the ground and was met with a sharp pain in his back, trailing up his spine towards his neck. He cried out in agony and surprise, falling back onto the sandy soil. Ryo guessed that he had fallen on his back when he lost consciousness. That vision had seemed so real. But, he could trust Whiteblaze; there was no reason to believe that Whiteblaze would hurt him or any of the other Ronins.  
  
Ryo wondered what the others were doing at that very moment. He wondered if they were trying to help him. Sighing, he pushed the thoughts of despair out of his mind. He knew the guys were trying to help them, but a sense of hopelessness sprouted in his heart when he thought of his friends. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off the ground, allowing the sharp pain to wrack his body. He had to do this alone. No one could help him.  
  
After walking for several hours, the pain in his back slowly receded. His feet were covered in a thick layer and dirt and sand; his soles and toes bled. Sharp rocks were camouflaged in the soil and remained unseen to Ryo. He often stubbed his toes in them or walked directly on top of them, which resulted in a sharp, unwelcome pain. Though he began to grow weary, he trudged on, knowing that something or someone was lying in wait for him.  
  
Oddly, the sky remained unchanged. It never grew dark, and the clouds never disappeared. It was eternal daylight in the nightmare Ryo was living. Though, Ryo noticed a decrease in temperature, even though the time of day was not changing. It slowly became colder, and he rubbed his hands over his arms in quick, smooth motions in order to stay warm. Soon, the temperature would become like an icy chill. Ryo knew that deserts experienced the two extremes of temperatures- hot and cold. He forced himself to keep walking, though his body began to shake uncontrollably with tremors induced by the cold.  
  
Ryo had to find shelter, otherwise, he would be forced to face the chill of night. Normally, he would have depended on his armor to save him, knowing Wildfire would provide not only heat, but a large portion of courage to his already thinning bravery. Goosebumps attacked his skin, and his hairs stood on end. Ryo could feel his face tightening in the cold and his teeth chattering. Suddenly, he spied a light in the distance. Fire. Ryo could almost feel the warmth radiating from the flame. Gathering the last of his strength, he ran to the source of the fire, willing himself to reach it. His feet pounded against the sand, producing trails of blood as he sprinted towards the fire. The temperature of his body raised only slightly, barely registering with Ryo. He half-climbed, half-sprinted up a small dune, his eyes wild with weariness and desperation. Upon reaching the top, he slid down the hill slightly, his feet loosing balance and grip. The sand greeted his body, and enveloped his flesh and he fell. Ryo flailed his arms and limbs, fighting the sand until he regained balance and went over the top of the hill, running.  
  
A temple came into his sight. It was small, square, but carved beautifully out of stone and marble. Fires gleamed from inside, baring light to the world through windows. Figures were carved in the stone, but he was too desperate to notice. Ryo sprinted to the building before skidding to a halt in awe as he gazed upon the majesty of the building. It was no bigger than Mia's house, but it was grander and more exciting. Ryo walked inside slowly, his feet trailing blood and tracking dirt inside. Oddly, the marble was warm, and he knew that this could not be possible, but the need for warmth overwhelmed his curiosity. He walked to a small fireplace on the east side of the temple and crouched before it, holding his hands out in front of the fire.  
  
When his body was finally warm again, Ryo stood up to his full height, feeling soothed and strengthened by the prescience of the fire, his element. His senses were heightened. Ryo sensed another prescience in the temple and tensed to fight. His muscles cried in protest, but he pushed the pain aside, letting the fire soothe his sores.  
  
"Show yourself," Ryo barely recognized the sound of his own voice. It was horse and forced from lack of use and the cold.  
  
Ryo waited, frozen the defensive position, until he spotted a shadow from the back of the temple, slithering over to him slowly.  
  
"Come to the light, demon," Ryo said, the tone of his voice compiled of fear, anger, and curiousity.  
  
"As you wish, my lord," A smooth, yet aged voice answered.  
  
The shadow grew into a man, bent over with age, his hair white and thinning. The man raised his head and looked at Ryo with eyes of gray. He was dressed in a simple brown robe that tied at the waist. He bowed slightly, which looked almost comical in his already bent over position.  
  
"I am Detrimentus, my lord."  
  
"I am no lord of yours."  
  
Detrimentus smiled and looked up into Ryo's tiger blue eyes, searching for something.  
  
"But you will be, if you wish it."  
  
The old man produced a dagger from beneath the folds of his robe. He handled it with care and respect, holding it out to Ryo. The dagger was made of silver, its hilt covered in dark jewels, which reflected Ryo's eyes when he looking into them. The blade was long and thin, and the light from the fire bounced off onto the metal. Ryo could see the stars reflected in the blade, and he looked out through one of the windows, amazed by the night that had covered the sky. It had been day only moments ago.  
  
Detrimentus held the dagger out to Ryo, hilt first. The warrior felt compelled to hold it, so he reached out to the dagger, curiosity overtaking his normally wary demeanor. The blade felt cool in his hands. It was richly crafted, Ryo noticed upon further inspection. The dagger was perfectly balanced, obviously made by an experienced blacksmith. Its beauty shone with a quiet sense of deadliness.  
  
"My lord?" Detrimentus questioned meekly.  
  
Ryo raised his head, tearing his eyes away from the beauty of the weapon.  
  
"This dagger offers you unimaginable power, but only if you wish it."  
  
"How would I attain such power?" Ryo asked, feeling as though he was being pulled under the spell of the dagger.  
  
"You must offer yourself to it completely, my lord."  
  
"A gift?"  
  
"No, my lord, a sacrifice."  
  
"What could I possibly sacrifice?"  
  
"Yourself, my lord."  
  
Ryo dropped the dagger, the clang of the metal hitting the floor echoed in the stone temple. The fires played light off of the two faces. Detrimentus smiled and picked up the dagger with such a speed that was not possible for a man his age and stature. Ryo stood frozen, fear and instinct telling him to run away, but he could not. Something was holding him there, in front of the fire, in front of Detrimentus, in front of the dagger. The old man stepped forward his eyes blazing with excitement and malice, holding the dagger against Ryo's throat. The warrior flinched, knowing he could not escape. The once cool metal felt as though it was on fire. The searing pain dug into Ryo's flesh as Detrimentus pushed the blade against Ryo's throat. He screamed.  
  
A/N: Ooo, cliffhanger! Nice, eh? Well, I'd like to say I write without the impetus of reviews, but they really do help my writing. I want to feel compelled to write, so I need you guys to help me out. Please, review and tell me what you think. Thanks. 


	5. Goodbye, Humanity

Disclaimer: I'm a poor teenager. I don't own anything, okay?  
  
A/N: Okay, you've got to admit, this chapter was out pretty quickly. Amazing, eh? There's a lot going on in this chapter. Oh, by the way, I noticed the last chapter had some weird line spacing, so ignore that. I may edit it later, but hey, it can still be read easily. I gave this story a quick look, but decided it was best to just publish it now, rather than later.  
  
Ooo, and thanks to all my reviewers! I honestly appreciate your support- like rain to the earth, my friends. Okay, okay, I'm finished. Enjoy.  
  
He could feel the cold metal slicing across his flesh as he cried in agony, fear, and pain. His own cries echoed in his ears, ringing out against the stone of the temple. Detrimentus smiled maliciously, playing the tip of the blade against the warrior's throat, taking pleasure in his victim's pain.  
  
Ryo's screams were silenced, though his mouth was still twisted in a howl, his throat working to voice his emotion. Ryo was released from his invisible bonds, dropping to the floor in a small clump, shaking uncontrollably. Detrimentus stood over the figure huddled on the floor, twirling the blade in his thin, bony fingers, like a miniature baton. Ryo could feel the cut in his throat, but he was too cold to move, his muscles automatically cramping up, trying to shield his body against the violent attacks of the mysterious chill.  
  
"My lord," Detrimentus whispered. It was a statement.  
  
Ryo looked up, despite the convulsions of his body. The old man bent his head towards Ryo, his wrinkled face closing in on Ryo's fear stricken and bewildered eyes.  
  
"I have a message for you," the old man began, "It appears Lord Talpa has decided to present you with a choice."  
  
The warrior tried to respond, but no sound came out of his mouth, though he coughed and swallowed in failed attempts to find his voice once again. He automatically attempted to tense his muscles, his body frigid for one short moment. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off of the floor, but his muscles refused to respond under the pressure of his body weight. His arms gave out, and he sagged back to the floor, assuming his former position of a clump on the floor of the temple.  
  
"My lord," Detrimentus said, a mocking tone apparent in his voice, "Why make it harder on yourself? Though the wound is shallow, the poison is still quite potent. I made it myself," He said with a sick sense of pride.  
  
Ryo grit his teeth in frustration and anger, not willing to submit to the poison attacking his body.  
  
"Your voice is a privilege, not a right," the old man said, sounding very much like a schoolteacher scolding an unruly child, "Lord Talpa offers you power in return for loyalty. Do you wish it?"  
  
Ryo narrowed his tiger blue eyes, but did not move his head in acceptance or denial. He merely waited for Detrimentus to continue.  
  
"My lord, the choice is simple."  
  
Ryo wanted to retort that there was no choice, knowing Talpa's schemes all too well. In an odd manner, he wasn't surprised that Talpa was in fact still alive. He had been a Ronin Warrior long enough to know that evil never died, it only disappeared for a mercifully short amount of time. The Ronin also knew that Talpa would try to break him down, no matter how hard he resisted.  
  
"I figured you would respond as much, my lord. No matter. I shall introduce you to your options," Detrimentus said matter-of-factly, "Do you wish to become a slave, young lord? To serve Talpa without a will of your own? I would think not, my lord. A warlord, that is what you wish for. Did you not dream of such power?"  
  
Despite his pain, Ryo wanted to laugh. Detrimentus expected him to choose to give in to Talpa, after all the years of fighting. After all the blood, tears, sacrifice, and pain. He was expected to give into the greatest evil of the world. Here he was, drowning in the unforgiving cold, without a voice, without his armor, without his friends...  
  
"Such is the way of the suffering, my lord," the old man said, the firelight playing off of his aged features, making him look as though he was slowly decaying amidst the flames of the temple.  
  
Ryo could not respond. He only lay his head down on the floor, waiting for the pain to come. He was growing tired of small talk. Talpa was smarter than that. Why should he waste time knowing that Ryo was not going to give in?  
  
"I should have you know..." Detrimentus began, waiting for Ryo to lift his head off of the floor in anticipation. Ryo did not move. "You're dying."  
  
The last statement hit Ryo like a bolt of lightening. So this was it. Die slowly or submit to Talpa. Now the situation was amusing. Ryo's lips curved into a thin smile, his eyes closed, and he attempted once more to relax his body. Dying! He was dying. It wasn't the first time he had been touched by death's fingers before, but now? Dying from a knife wound to the throat.  
  
"The ironic thing is, my lord, Talpa won't let you die. You'll either give into him willingly, thus keeping your memory, or you'll resist, which will be futile in the end, of course. My my, do you really think you'll win, my lord? Tsk, you should no better. After all these years..."  
  
All these years... This is what it comes to now. Ryo had already made his decision. He would resist Talpa. He would never submit to the will of what he had fought against for so long.  
  
"I'll have you know, the next stage is about to begin. You don't have long to choose, my lord."  
  
Ryo merely glared at the crouched figure of Detrimentus with defiance. He would never give in so easily.  
  
"A slave then," Detrimentus said bitterly, disgust coating his words. He straightened himself out, and then rubbed his palms together, sliding them in one fluid motion that was so fast, Ryo almost missed it.  
  
A sudden shock of pain rippled through Ryo's body. It felt like his bones were being shattered into a million pieces. The cold was gone, replaced by a sensation of intense warmth. His back arched as a spasm of pain wracked his body. Instinctually, he cried out in agony, but was still under the spell of silence, his mouth open in a muted scream, his neck craned as his body thrashed about on the temple's ground.  
  
He had lost track of the old man. Ryo's eyes searched wildly around the room, but Detrimentus had vanished. Ryo clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to focus on something in order to soothe the pain. His whole body convulsed and shook, having lost control of it long ago.  
  
Hours passed, and the pain slowly subsided, Ryo slowly growing weaker, feeling the pull of physical fatigue. He closed his eyes when he felt the last of the pain float away from his body, as though it was only a wisp of air. Slowly, consciousness melted away from his body, like ice cream left in the noon sun.  
  
Ryo awoke with a start, not remembering falling asleep. He guessed he must of gasped when he woke, but wasn't sure, recalling the curse placed upon him. His body still remembered the pain he had suffered before, but he no longer felt its touch, grateful to be left in peace for a short while.  
  
His eyes began to close, and the warrior did not realize how tired he was. He tried to lift his hand, in order to prove to himself that he was not weakened by Detrimentus' spell. But the task proved to be too difficult for the Ronin, and he rolled his head over to the side, determined not to fall asleep before knowing where he was.  
  
From what he could see, he was still in the temple, only not in the front hall he was in before. He was in a small room, lying on a marble altar. Torchlight played off of the walls, creating sharp shadows that made the room look even more ominous and mysterious. Ryo tried to study the walls, for he noticed there were symbols scripted in black paint, but the small amount of light did not permit further inspection. Sleep crept up on the young man, and soon, he found he could not even resist slumber.  
  
Ryo awoke slowly, awakened by voices around him. He immediately recognized Detrimentus' voice- old and crackly, ridden with a sly sense of confidence. Detrimentus was whispering words. It sounded as though he was attempting to chant and hold a conversation at the same time. Ryo recognized one word, amidst the whisperings of his captor- Talpa.  
  
Was Talpa here? In spirit? Or in physical form? Fear crept up on the young man, but he forced himself to open his eyes, curiosity getting the best of him.  
  
"Ah, my young lord. Awake, are we?" Detrimentus called out to Ryo, "It's time..." he said, cryptically.  
  
Ryo tested his strength by clenching his fists, but he could not muster the strength to lift his arm.  
  
"You're too weak for that, my lord," Detrimentus said, obviously taking notice of Ryo's attempts to move.  
  
Ryo wanted to retort, but as much as he tried to will himself to speak, he could not. The spell was still in effect.  
  
"It's time for the extraction. I won't lie to you, my lord. It will feel as if your very heart is being ripped from your flesh."  
  
Detrimentus raised his bony arms, the folds of his silver robes moving with the motions of his body. The old man began chanting, and instantly, Ryo knew they were dark, evil words that birthed no good.  
  
Suddenly, his body tensed and his breathing became sharper. He felt a dark presence in the room. Something so evil, it made Ryo's teeth ache. Talpa was in the room, having come for the extraction.  
  
"Ryo," Talpa's voice boomed, as Ryo's body physically shook. He felt like throwing up and tearing his hair out all at once, but he was too weak to do anything but listen and quake.  
  
"My Lord Talpa?" Detrimentus questioned meekly, "I am ready to begin the extraction."  
  
"Excellent, proceed," Talpa answered.  
  
Ryo closed his eyes, terrified of what was to come. Detrimentus began a low, steady chant that soon picked up speed and became louder and more boisterous. Something pulled in Ryo's chest. It wasn't his heart, but it was close. Right beneath his collarbone, in the middle of his chest, Ryo felt a tugging. It was slow at first, almost timid, but like Detrimentus' chant, it soon gathered strength and became more forceful, like a tenacious dog tugging at a rope. Ryo clenched his fists and clamped his jaw shut.  
  
Thousands of blades pierced Ryo's skin. A hammer was constantly beating his skull. Flames licked his skin like hungry lions. Icy water filled his lungs. A noose closed around his throat, suffocating him.  
  
This wasn't death. This was much worse.  
  
All at once, Ryo knew. He realized what was happening. Talpa wanted his soul, and was getting what he wanted.  
  
Oddly enough, Ryo did not lose consciousness; he guessed that Detrimentus' chant did not allow for that. His soul was slowly coming loose, like a stubborn tooth being pulled by a dentist.  
  
Ryo tried to resist, but his efforts were slapped away by more waves of excruciating pain. Hours later, he lay exhausted on the altar, his body immobile and exhausted; a thick coat of sweat clung to his skin, making his pants cling to his legs and his hair stick to his skull in tight waves.  
  
Was his soul gone? Would he know the difference? What now? Would death come for him?  
  
"Ryo." A voice. "Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo. Ryo."  
  
Demons screamed his name over and over, speaking over one another, echoing. Some voices were malicious, some were sweet, and others were pure evil. Slowly, the voices pulled back, exiting out of Ryo's head. The voices retreated, but Ryo felt a dark presence enter his mind, forcing its way in- uninvited. Ryo automatically tensed, feeling vulnerable and alone.  
  
"Son." Talpa's voice boomed. So this was it. This was existence without a soul. Death was a dream in a faraway land now.  
  
A/N: Oh yeah, good stuff. Another cliffhanger, pretty dramatic, huh? Review. It helps me get stories out faster. No, really... It does. Heh. 


	6. When Blue Becomes Silver

A/N: Bum, bum, bum! I'm just pumping them out. Chapters, that is. Ahem... I'd like to start off by giving a BIG "Thank You" to my reviewers. Honestly, you people fuel my writing. So, thank you, and please continue to comment on my writing. It's beyond appreciated. If the spacing is a little shady, excuse it. My computer likes to fiddle with my format. As for this chapter, I believe it has a completely different mood to it, which is what I was obviously going for. Oh, and take note that all the names used in this story have a meaning that directly correlates with the nature of each character. For example, Raidon means "thunder god", but not literally of course. He has the poise and arrogance of a god. Eh, eh? –prod- Get it? Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: As defined by the dictionary: "A repudiation or denial of responsibility or connection..." So, I'm denying any claim to Sunrise.  
  
Torn skin. A white tiger emerging from the shadows of dusk. Goodbyes. A crooked jack 'o lantern smile. Missing front teeth. Death. Pain. Ryo. Hollowed emotions. Hugs. Tight embraces. A haunting melody. Swing sets. A toy store. A coffin made out of oak. Dead flowers. Twin swords. Fire. Ryo. Light. Stars. Water. Rock. Handshakes. Tears. Blood. Ryo. Black feathers. Blue eyes. Laughter. Running without thinking. Muscles pumping. Hearting pounding. Ryo. Thirst. Grass. Endless fields of grass. Dew. Strangers. Ryo. Watching the lights go out.  
  
He awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, fear and confusion clouding his vision. He lifted his aching body from his bed, and sat over the edge, placing his hands on his forehead, feeling the sweat coat his fingers like droplets of dew. He breathed hard and fast, the images from his slumber tumbling into his head all at once, like horses released from their stalls, straining their necks at the smell of freedom.  
  
The young man grit his teeth in frustration, his jaw aching at the sudden amount of strain. The night sky caught his attention as his lifted his head from his palms. Stretching his muscles, he moved towards the window with a catlike grace, standing before the railing on the balcony, feeling the cold stone of the fence beneath his fingertips. The sweat was cooled from his body by the swift, cold breeze that moved about, flowing through the sky. His thick, unruly raven hair danced in the night, fueled by the wind that that played with his locks.  
  
Goosebumps formed on his bare chest, but he did not leave his post on the balcony. The dreams had disturbed him. He did not know where the images had come from, and he didn't understand the strong emotions that resonated from his dreams. He felt as though he should remember something. But, the images did not make any sense, for he knew he surely had not experienced any of the memories that had come to him while he had slumbered.  
  
He looked up into the sky, as though it would offer him answers to quell his fears. Thin streams of sunlight wove their way through the sky, signaling the approaching dawn. He tried to push back that fear that rose inside of him; something was not right, he could sense it. Swallowing, he turned away from the sunrise, moving further into his chambers; he clothed himself in black clothes fit for royalty with gold and red threading fit so that the ensemble was tailored perfectly for his frame. He donned thin armor that not only served as decoration, but for sparring and hunting. He slid his wrist guards on and tied his black, knee high boots, with motions that proved his daily habit of dressing in such attire.  
  
After fastening a long, flowing black cape around his neck, he ran a hand through his thick, ebony locks. He glanced in the mirror before reaching for the doorknob; his silver eyes glistened in the coming dawn. His long hair framed his elfin face perfectly, the locks falling between his shoulder blades.  
  
He closed the door behind him with a click. He strode with confidence to the room that lay in the center of the palace. The young man took in the rich surroundings about him with appreciation and ease. His boots made no sound as he glided with assurance. After several moments, he had managed to navigate the labyrinth of his residence. He stood before two large dark doors. Without hesitation, he pushed the doors open, closing them behind him, all in one swift motion. His eyes automatically adjusted to the darkness of the room, illuminated only by five single torches, burning in the silence.  
  
The man moved to the center of the room, giving no notice to the ornate carvings on the walls. He knelt before a throne, his smooth movements signaling his reverence to his actions. Bowing his head, he glanced upwards to the seat before him. He waited in silence; until he was greeted by a loud, booming voice that dripped with power, yet a small hint of softness.  
  
"Taro, you look troubled," the voice exclaimed, as a ghostly image formed before the kneeling figure.  
  
"Father," he breathed, almost in a whisper, "I've had troubling dreams."  
  
The image solidified, though it still appeared slightly transparent. It was a figure of a head, armored with a helmet suited for battle and a mask that concealed the face. It looked menacing, but Taro looked upon it with no trace of fear; only respect glinted in his steel eyes.  
  
"My son, tell me," the voice said, soothingly.  
  
"Visions mixed with strange emotions, father, though I know they are not my memories. Death without battle, child's toys, children experiencing joy, and a white tiger," Taro said, his voice steady, though his eyes were narrowed in uncertainty.  
  
"You spoke of emotions, Taro, what did the visions convey to you?"  
  
"Fear, sadness, pain, a sense of loss."  
  
"Do not believe everything you see, my son. Your heart is too soft; weakness is not a quality a leader can afford. Ease your troubled mind. You've no need to think of useless dreams. I'll have a woman sent to your bed to comfort your uneasiness during the night, Taro. It's time you relished in the fruits of warlords."  
  
Taro nodded slightly, still unnerved by the visions and now, even more unnerved by the notion of spending the night with a woman. He found most of them ignorant and naïve, useless to spend time with, unless the needs of the body called to be fulfilled.  
  
Bowing his head, he thanked his father and left the room. Once he was in the corridor, he made his way to the mess hall, wanting to converse with his generals before the appointed meeting that was scheduled for the afternoon.  
  
Weak streams of sunlight began to pour in the windows, and Taro avoided the pools of light that bathed the floors. He cringed at the yellow lakes of warmth spread out on the floor. He much preferred the night. In darkness, he felt truly powerful. Though, as of late, he was agitated in the darkness. The dreams were relentless; their impacts were fresh in his mind, caused him to close his eyes in meditation for a moment.  
  
The memories of the visions were overwhelming, and Taro had to steady himself against the wall with his hand for a moment. When he felt he had overcome the aftershock of the dreams, he continued to make way towards the mess hall, his black cape swishing behind him, like a relentless shadow.  
  
Although dawn had just approached, the mess hall was already bustling with activity. Soldiers woke early in order to begin sparring. Taro spotted Raidon, one of his finest generals and closest friends, sitting on a bench sipping wine. Taro made he way over to Raidon, nodding at various soldiers who motioned their respect.  
  
"A little early, isn't it?" Taro questioned, lifting his chin slightly towards the pitcher of wine.  
  
Raidon looked up at Taro, his green eyes foggy with the last traces of sleep. A smile cracked on his lips and soon, the both of them were grinning and laughing.  
  
"Never too early, my lord," Raidon said between bouts of laughter.  
  
Taro sat down across from his companion, happy that his friend was in such good humor for the time of day. Raidon's wavy red hair was more disheveled than Taro's naturally unruly hair. He refused to cut it, claiming that women went crazy for it. Taro assumed that was true, noting that Raidon had more than a few women that kept him happy. He took note of Raidon's lanky appearance; the man was swift and more powerful than he appeared to be. Though Raidon was a fine swordsman, his skills with the bow were unmatched, except when it came to Taro. The two of them were equally gifted with the bow.  
  
An old man scuttled over to Taro, a tray of food in tow. Taro nodded, and the servant placed the food on the table and bowed. Moments later, a woman, no younger than Taro, sauntered over and placed a pitcher of water on the table, bending over so her cleavage was in view of Taro as she bowed and walked away with a sly grin on her face.  
  
"You should kill that one for that," a low voice said from behind Taro.  
  
"Ah, Kioshi, how wonderful of you to be so cheerful. Come, eat with us!" Raidon exclaimed, motioning to his wine.  
  
"My lord," Kioshi began, not taking his narrow eyes off of the woman, "Her lack of respect is appalling."  
  
"Oh, my good general, lighten up. Drink some wine!"  
  
"Such behavior deserves punishment," Kioshi spat, moving away from the table, "Excuse me, my lord, I shall eat elsewhere."  
  
"And deny us of your rancor? I shall think not! Come, come, good general. I was merely jesting. You're certainly not a man of drink!" Raidon exclaimed boisterously.  
  
Taro smiled, despite the events of the night before. Kioshi sat at the table next to Taro with a sigh, rubbing his short, thick blonde hair with his palm. Kioshi was shorter than Taro by a good five inches, but stockier and more muscular. He did not care much for weaponry, since he was the finest wrestler Taro had ever met. Taro had never seriously tried a hand at wrestling; he much preferred swords or bows.  
  
"My lord, you look tired. What troubles you?" Kioshi asked, putting a hand on Taro's shoulder in concern.  
  
"He needs a women," Raidon said matter-of-factly.  
  
"My father actually suggested that," Taro replied, feeling uneasy.  
  
"He knows best," Raidon said, nodding and grinning mischievously.  
  
"I've other things to think about," Taro began, "Such as new exercises the soldiers should be going through. I've also noticed that we're in need of more blacksmiths, our weaponry grows thin. I also wish to discuss strategies for the oncoming battle," Taro said.  
  
"It's only breakfast!" Raidon complained.  
  
Kioshi nodded seriously, understanding Taro's urgency.  
  
"Do you still plan to attack in five months?" Kioshi questioned.  
  
"Yes. I know many of the men have already been fitted, so all they need to work on is training," Taro replied, "I had already discussed it with Makoto and Leiko before they left. They shall be returning in one month."  
  
"Have they accomplished their goals, my lord?" Kioshi asked.  
  
"They're succeeding thus far. I've only heard news from my father. There's still much to be done here. I'll need you both to train the soldiers with more in-depth combat techniques. There's a lot to be done before the war."  
  
"You will be a god, Taro," Raidon said, his eyes serious and his voice steady.  
  
"Only with victory, Raidon," Taro replied, standing up, "I've much to see to this morning. We shall still meet this afternoon."  
  
Raidon and Kioshi nodded and bid Taro a good day as he left the mess hall. When he found himself back in the hallway, Taro just recalled then he had not eaten breakfast, though food had been made available to him. Not feeling hungry, he did not return to the mess hall.  
  
He made his way towards the training grounds, wanting to oversee the soldiers as well as spar with whoever was willing to fight him.  
  
"Ryo."  
  
Taro felt a voice in his head, a presence within himself. He knew no one had spoken to him; the hall was empty. Then who had spoken to his mind?  
  
"Ryo."  
  
Ryo? The name sounded familiar. He knew no solider by the title. The voice was merely a whisper in his head, yet he heard it clearly.  
  
Feeling foolish, he licked his lips and asked, "What do you want?" His voice was strong and unwavering.  
  
"Come back to us," the voice answered.  
  
Taro could tell the voice was male, but he did not recognize it.  
  
"Who are you?" he questioned, his breathing sharp and quick, as his heart began to beat faster.  
  
"We shall show you."  
  
The words were cryptic, and Taro waited in the hall, poised for a fight. He saw Raidon and Kioshi making their way towards him down the hall, their voices carrying towards him. He felt comforted knowing his companions were near. Without warning, images clouded Taro's vision, much like the dreams he had the night before. Every time an image changed, there was a sharp pain in Taro's body, like a lightening bolt striking him. Running. Falling. Hands grabbing. A white tiger. Five shadows. White armor. Arrows. A woman screaming. A tombstone. Rain. Eyelashes fluttering. Birds falling from trees. Windows being shattered. Black feathers floating in a river, being carried along by the swift current.  
  
Taro cried out, crashing against the wall behind him. The pain was unbearable, and the emotions emitted by the images were just as severe. He felt pain not only of the body, but pain of the heart- despair, loss, death, hopelessness, abandonment, and terror. He felt himself falling to the ground. The visions were fading and slowing down. His sight soon became a blur; colors running together, forms becoming misshapen. He heard footsteps coming towards him. The vibrations pounded in his head, as his vision faded into black. He felt himself being lifted off of the ground. Strong arms gripped his sides.  
  
There was shouting. Men's voices sounded panicked- afraid. Taro could feel what the people around him were feeling. The emotions of their lives soon revealed themselves to him, and he was able to see their souls without physically opening his eyes. It was overbearing. He began to lose consciousness- his brain had become overrun by the emotions that ambushed it.  
  
Darkness came. A boy? A boy. Running towards him. Bright blue eyes alert and focused. Hands reaching out. Fingers trying to close around his wrist. Taro pulled back.  
  
A/N: Man, that's good stuff, eh? If you're confused, don't worry. All will be revealed soon, my friend. Ooo, did you notice the names and the meanings? Oh yes, I go the extra mile! Don't forget to review; I know you want to. I'll have the next chapter out as soon as possible. Gotta love summer, eh? 


	7. When Blue Becomes Gold

A/N: Another chapter. It's up pretty quickly, wouldn't you say? Thank you to all my reviewers! You people are amazing. I wouldn't keep writing as vigorously as I do now without your support. So, thanks, and keep 'em coming. Hmm, I don't want to ruin what's coming up in this chapter with too much foreshadowing, so read on.  
  
Disclaimer: The Ronin Warriors aren't mine, but characters created by me for this story are. Have a nice day.  
  
Katsuro awoke slowly. His eyes fluttered open like butterflies as he inhaled sweet, smoky air. He immediately recognized it as incense. The celebration had begun.  
  
He sat up slowly, stretching his back muscles as he sat upright in bed. The pain was dull, but he predicted it would be a painful day. He yawned, not caring whether he disturbed those still sleeping beside him. He gave a nonchalant glance towards the two sleeping women, who now cuddled together under the covers. They had been very satisfying. Perhaps he would keep them, if he felt like it later.  
  
He got out of bed quickly, wanting to speak with his father. Katsuro winced as his stood up, feeling the pain of yesterday's battle in his joints. He retrieved his black robe from his bureau and made way to his bathhouse. He signaled to a slave girl who sat hunched on a bench to wash him. She was young, maybe only fourteen years of age, but she was already showing signs of womanish beauty. With a grace that was rare for a day after battle, he slid into the stone tub, feeling his muscles relax after a moment. He waited for the girl to began washing his back with a sponge. She scrubbed him and then dumped warm water over his head to begin washing his hair.  
  
Half an hour later, he was out of the tub, kissing the slave girl out of curiosity, wanting to satisfy his morning lust. She had been surprised when he had grabbed her, but soon relaxed, allowing Katsuro to express his passion. He grew tired of the kiss and released her, pleased by the dazed expression on her face. All the women did that after his kisses.  
  
He dressed with the assistance of another slave; this time it was a young male. Katsuro had no lust for males, so he merely waited for the slave to dress him. He wore a loose black long-sleeved shirt that clung to his lean, but muscular frame, and baggy black pants, embellished with a gold belt that matched the color of his eyes. He hung his sword loosely on his hips, the scabbard covered with gold and black metal.  
  
He left his chambers, annoyed by the fact that the women in his bed had not stirred yet. He would send for one of the guards to remove them from his quarters. The young man moved with arrogance around the palace, his steps placed confidently as he strode to his father's conference room. He knew his father would be preoccupied with his advisors, but surely he had time for his son.  
  
The guards at the door quickly moved out of the way, too intimidated to protest against Katsuro. Their eyes gleamed with fear and respect as they scanned him quickly before setting their eyes upon the floor and opening the twin doors.  
  
Katsuro observed that his father was meeting with his top advisors, all of which were at least twice Katsuro's age. Each was robed in rich attire, gold hanging from their necks and wrists, their hair twisted up perfectly. They were all circled around the table, scanning and discussing a piece of parchment, which Katsuro assumed was a treaty.  
  
"Father, I must speak with you. Ah, good morning, advisors," Katsuro said loudly, his voice interrupting the conference.  
  
All four advisors looked up upon his demand, their eyes gleaming with distrust and dislike. It was obvious they did not like Katsuro as a person. His opinion was favored over theirs, even though he was not an advisor, and not even an experienced general yet. His decisions about battle strategies and laws concerning the kingdom were always correct, which created another reason in which he was loathed by the advisors.  
  
Katsuro' father looked up from the parchment, his face covered by the crimson mask he always wore, which concealed a long old wound from battle. His face had been horribly scared and disfigured by a fire long ago. Katsuro had never been allowed to see it; his father had been very adamant about hiding his disfigurement, and had once even struck Katsuro so hard for trying to remove the mask that he had flown across the room, breaking two ribs. His father was a powerful man and warrior, but Katsuro still trusted him like a father.  
  
"Advisors," Katsuro's father said, his deep voice booming as he nodded at the men, who were squinting their eyes, sizing up the young general, "I will speak with you later."  
  
The four men left, all glaring at Katsuro, who still stood and smiled slyly as they left.  
  
"Katsuro," his father began, rolling up the parchment, "What news is so urgent for the morning?"  
  
"Don't you want to congratulate me, father?" Katsuro asked, grinning as he leaned on the table.  
  
"On your victory, my son? You know how proud I am. I need not have need for words," his father answered, his voice serious.  
  
"I think that--"Katsuro began, before a thin bolt of pain ran through his body, making him cry out on pain, as he gripped the edges of the table.  
  
"Katsuro!" His father cried, running over to his son.  
  
Another wave of sharp pain came, wracking the warrior's entire body, as he could no longer maintain a grip on the table. He fell upon the floor, screaming out in agony and confusion.  
  
The guards rushed in, their weapons raised for battle. Upon seeing Katsuro in pain, they ran into the corridor and called for a doctor.  
  
Katsuro's father could do nothing but kneel by his son, his emotions hidden by his mask.  
  
Katsuro felt as if his entire body had been thrown in a pit of fire, his skin sizzled, his bones cracked, as his heartbeat speed up until he could no longer hear anything but the continuous, rapid thumping of blood racing through his veins. His vision clouded, as if someone had put a veil over his eyes. After several moments, his voice grew hoarse from his screams, and his bones ached with sharp pain.  
  
Everything he had ever been taught about hiding pain left him. His training of enduring pain with pride no longer meant anything to him as his nerves were wracked and ravaged by an unseen force.  
  
He heard the doctor enter and kneel immediately next to him. He felt his father cradle his head in his lap, though his body began to suffer convulsions. Katsuro's hearing was muffled, as though he was just waking from a dream.  
  
Soon, Katsuro could no longer hear, the figures around him had become ghostly. Their transparent bodies moved in slow motion, and Katsuro felt as though he had been disconnected from the world of the living.  
  
The pain subsided a little, but a dull, throbbing pain continued to pound in his head. His bones ached, his muscled felt stretched and pulled, and his skin felt sweaty and cold. He lay there on the floor, breathing hard; his black clothed body lay limp on the floor. Silence rang in his ears, and he felt alone in the great room.  
  
"Ryo?" A voice rang out, echoing against the stone walls, causing a sharp pain in Katsuro's head upon regaining his sense of hearing.  
  
Katsuro raised his head slightly, his hand automatically moved towards his sword. He strained his eyes in order to determine the position of the person in the room. He could not sense anyone; frustration bloomed like a flower in his mind.  
  
Slowly, his raised himself to a standing position, gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the waves of pain that consumed his nerves. He withdrew his sword; the metal ringing out was the only noise in the chamber.  
  
"Show yourself, mage!" Katsuro cried out.  
  
"Ryo, come back to us," The voice said; its cryptic message sending chills up the lone warrior's spine.  
  
"Come, meet me and fight, if you can overcome your cowardice," Katsuro spat, frustrated. His heart beat with the anticipation of a fight. Despite the pain, he licked his lips, thirsting for a duel.  
  
"Why must you fight us? Have we not fought alongside one another long enough?"  
  
"Show yourself and fight me, you bastard!" Katsuro said, growing annoyed and angry.  
  
"Yes, you should see us..."  
  
A moment later, four shadows shone against the morning light at the far end of the chamber. They stood impossibly tall, but Katsuro could tell the sun was playing tricks on him.  
  
"Emerge from the shadows," he commanded.  
  
Slowly, the four figures made their way up to Katsuro. Their figures shrunk in size, and Katsuro was relieved. He had fought too many giants over the years for his liking. The four strangers' features were revealed, and somehow, they seemed familiar. Each looked about Katsuro's age, perhaps two or three rotations older. Each of them was dressed in bulky armor, their weapons at the ready. A sense of familiarity overcame Katsuro's mind, yet it was soon washed out by anger and the thirst for blood.  
  
"Do you remember us now?" A blonde man asked, his one visible purple eye searched Katsuro.  
  
"You are mages, playing a trick on me. Fight me and prove your worth," Katsuro retorted, snarling.  
  
"We don't want to fight you, Ryo," A blue haired man said softly, a hint of regret and sadness in his voice.  
  
"My name is not Ryo. I am a general of Lord Talpa!"  
  
A small red haired boy gasped, his eyes wide, clouded with surprise and confusion. Katsuro was baffled by his expression.  
  
"Identify yourselves to me, for you are intruders in my father's kingdom!"  
  
"F-father? Are you crazy? What the hell are you talking about? He's your enemy! He tried to kill you! He's not your father! He's messing with your mind, and from the looks of it, he's doing a pretty damn good job!" A hulky boy with short, grayish-brown hair exclaimed, anger igniting his eyes as he stepped forward.  
  
"Kento, calm yourself. He doesn't know all this yet. His mind believes that this life is his," The blonde hair said, stepping forward to hold the short- tempered warrior back.  
  
"You insult my father after trespassing into the palace?" Katsuro asked, raising his sword and stepping forward.  
  
"Ryo, please," The red haired man said, stepping forward slowly, while holding his hands up in a sign of peace, "Don't you remember me? I'm Cye."  
  
"I'm Rowen," the blue haired man said.  
  
"Sage," the blonde hair man said, looking Katsuro straight in the eyes.  
  
"And I'm Kento, your buddy," The last man said.  
  
"I have no memory of you. You speak lies, and you have used sorcery." Katsuro stated.  
  
"Guys," Sage said quietly, although Katsuro could hear him perfectly, "He honestly doesn't remember us, I can tell. That isn't Ryo, but he's inside of him. Look at his eyes. They're not blue anymore."  
  
"They're... gold!" Rowen said.  
  
"Well, what should we do?" Kento asked.  
  
"We may have to weaken his current state here, and therefore, his state in the real world would be weakened. Remember how we pushed through to talk to him before? He was different then; he even looked different. He keeps changing realities. We have to weaken him here, in this reality, but if we fail, he'll switch realities again. Then, we'll have to start all over," Rowen said, matter-of-factly.  
  
While he was waiting, Katsuro slowly built up his energy, anticipating a fight. He ignored what the strange warriors said about Ryo and how he was similar to him. The others seemed surprised by his golden eyes, but Katsuro did not allow this disturbance to interfere with his preparation for the upcoming battle. He maintained his honor by waiting for his opponents to signal they were ready to fight.  
  
"A brawl, you mean?" Kento asked, grinning.  
  
"Yes, Kento, a brawl," Rowen replied.  
  
"Shotgun, baby!"  
  
"Kento, remember, we should only weaken him. I don't know what the effects of killing him here would mean in the real world," Cye said, looking over towards the lone warrior who appeared to be in a state of meditation.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I would never seriously hurt him, guys. You know that. Well, when I'm finished, you just lead the way, guys."  
  
Katsuro waited for them to finish their discussion, calmed by his mind exercises. His gripped his sword in his hand, feeling the power of the Netherworld pulsing within it. It had been his father's sword, and upon Katsuro's first battle, which had been a victory, his father had presented him with the ancient sword. Its black metal shone with strength and confidence. He could smell the blood of fallen warriors upon the weapon, and he smiled; he would not fail.  
  
"You are ready then?" Katsuro asked, the corners of his mouth turning up slowly in a small smile. How he loved the moment before a battle began. He could sense the other warriors' apprehension, and it was calming to him. He was not nervous; the idea of a battle was soothing to him, as though he was quenching a thirst.  
  
Kento stepped forward, his staff gripped by both of his hands. The other warriors stepped back into the shadows, wanting to give both of the fighters more room, even though the hall was large enough to hold a small army.  
  
Both fighters waited, assessing one another. Kento looked physically stronger, but he was obviously less stealthy because of his weight. Katsuro was not wearing armor, but he was glad because of it. He did not expect to be wounded and his lack of armor proved that he would be even more stealthy.  
  
Kento knew he possessed more brute force, but this so-called Katsuro looked faster. He looked like Ryo; his limbs were longer and more limber, but his eyes were the most intimidating part. They glowed gold, like a wolf's. Kento wondered if he still possessed the same power as before, and whether or not he could call upon Wildfire.  
  
Katsuro charged without warning, moving stealthily across the room towards Kento. Kento cried out, and barely had time to block the attack. The two of them struck and blocked for several moments, and it was obvious that Kento was growing tired, while Katsuro smiled, mostly to himself. He was allowing Kento to stay in the battle because he was curious about him. He quickly assessed the warrior's fighting style- strengths and weaknesses.  
  
Katsuro soon grew bored of Kento; he had figured out the warrior's style. The golden-eyed warrior grinned and sped up his movements. He blocked a blow from the staff and delivered a blow to Kento's face with his left fist. He spun in the air with smooth movements and struck the warrior across the face with a high kick.  
  
Kento cried out, and fell to the ground. Katsuro could hear the other warrior's gasp out of concern, and perhaps even awe of his movements. Slowly, Kento got up, anger shown within his eyes.  
  
"Okay, dude, I've had it. Sorry about this, it's gonna hurt, man. Take two pills and call me in the morning," Kento said, beginning to slowly spin his staff. He held out his other hand and curled it into a fist, "Iron...Rock...Crusherrrrr!"  
  
The floor began to shake and tear, large pieces of stone flying across the makeshift battlefield. Soon, all the stone in the room was swirling about, spreading dust and debris in the air. Pieces of rock fell from the high ceiling, raining down on Katsuro. But, he did not scream in fear or surprise, he merely stood there, his gold eyes locked on Kento. The earthquake lasted only a moment, but Kento was drained. He leaned on his staff, breathing heavily, but grinning.  
  
"I...hope...he's...not too badly... hurt," He said between huffing.  
  
All the warriors waited for the dust to settle before they began to move in where the rocks were piled, which created the illusion of a small mountain.  
  
To their dismay, they heard a voice laughing, echoing in the room. Katsuro's light laughter made chills crawl up all their spines.  
  
"How?" Cye asked quietly, disturbed by the laughter.  
  
"Man, there's no way!" Kento exclaimed.  
  
Out of the dust, emerged Katsuro, who didn't even appear to be tired or hurt. The only sign that Kento's attack had affected Katsuro was the light layer of dust that had settled on his black clothing. A menacing smile plagued his handsome features.  
  
"Come, come!" He shouted, clapping his hands in appreciation, "Was that it? You insult me!" Katsuro cried.  
  
"How did you...?" Rowen began.  
  
"A general trained under Lord Talpa is the strongest of any warrior. He has no use for games," Katsuro answered, anticipating Rowen's question.  
  
"All at once?" Cye asked quietly.  
  
"It may be the only way, but Kento's obviously spent," Sage said, his voice serious.  
  
Katsuro raised his eyebrows, excited by the mention of an uneven fight. The odds were against him, and he liked it that way.  
  
"I'll wait for you to drag him to sit against the wall. I don't want him getting in the way," Katsuro said, grinning like a demon.  
  
"Why, you..." Kento began, before being escorted to the wall by Cye, "I can still..."  
  
"No, Kento. You need to build up your strength. If we need you, you have to be ready," Cye answered, worry in his voice.  
  
"What? You'll be fine, dudes. I just... didn't expect him to fight like that. He fought differently, you know? Ryo was good, but he was more hesitant, unless he was really pissed off. This guy... he moves like a cat, but he's strong too."  
  
"I can still see Ryo in there," Cye said sadly.  
  
"We'll get him back, man," Kento said, trying to reassure Cye, even though he wasn't even sure.  
  
Cye nodded, and held Kento's shoulder for a moment before turning around and joining the others.  
  
Rowen nodded at Cye as he stood beside him. They both looked to Sage, who had unofficially taken Ryo's place as leader both in and out of battle.  
  
"We don't have the energy or skill to keep up with him without the power of our armors. I say we just go in for the kill with our main attacks," Sage said under his breath, not wanting Katsuro to catch wind of his plan.  
  
"So, combine all three? Will that work?" Cye asked, apprehensive.  
  
"Yeah, it'll work, but it's basically an all-or-nothing deal. If we don't put all we have into the attack, we'll drain ourselves and Katsuro will take us down. If we do put all we have into the attack, we'll still drain ourselves, but we can weaken him," Rowen said.  
  
"So, basically, a lose-lose situation?" Cye asked.  
  
"If you want to look at it that way, sure," Rowen answered, attempting to keep his nerves steady.  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
A/N: Another cliffhanger. You love it, don't you? Don't be angry- be a reviewer! Okay, nice plug, huh? I'll put the next chapter up as soon as I can. 


	8. Faces of Ash

A/N: Thought I fell of the face of the earth, eh, friendly reader? Well, fear not! I've got to confess that this chapter has just been sitting around, waiting to be edited for a few weeks now. So, technically, it /I written, it just wasn't edited yet. So, here it is. Ah, no one wants to be spoiled with too much good reading, eh? Right then.  
  
Ah, yes, a special thanks to my LOVELY reviewers.  
  
Disclaimer: Hmm, I wonder if this is truly necessary? Well, Katsuro was created by me. So, it's safe to say he's mine, eh? Well, that sounds a bit odd, but hey... hey. Hmm, I got nothing! Whoosh! Away we go...  
  
"Thunder..."  
  
"Arrow..."  
  
"Super..."  
  
"Bolt..."  
  
"Shock-..."  
  
"Wave..."  
  
"Cut!"  
  
"-Wave!"  
  
"Smasher!"  
  
A brilliant display of light and destruction filled the great chamber, blinding all of the combatants with its braided rainbow. Sage, Rowen, and Cye stood, releasing their power- fueled by fervor and fear, hoping that they could reclaim their fallen leader through the powers of their armors.  
  
The room began to shake, disturbing the already cracked and damaged walls, which readily forced the support to crumble, spilling ash and stone throughout the room. The noise was deafening, and the warriors were tempted to cover their ears with their hands, but they did not want to sever their already weakened threads of concentration.  
  
The powers of Halo, Strata, and Torrent swirled together, forming a thick bolt of power that sped towards Katsuro, who stood his ground with a confident look in his metallic eyes. He raised his black sword in defense and grinned, shifting his feet so he had a better defensive position.  
  
Rowen wanted to laugh. How could Katsuro, or Ryo, for that matter, believe that a sword could defend him from the power of three Ronin Warriors? Slowly, Rowen felt his energy weaken; he couldn't give much more power. He risked a glance towards Sage, who had thick beads of sweat on his brow, his face contorted in a mask of strain and concentration. Cye didn't look much better; he had an uncharacteristic expression of anger on his face.  
  
Katsuro waited patiently for the beam of energy that was rushing towards him. He wasn't afraid of the power the warriors displayed; he knew the sword would both absorb and deflect the excess energy that he didn't take in his body. His grin grew wider; this would be most entertaining. He felt the impact when the beam met his sword and felt it when the sword could no longer drink in the energy. In one smooth motion, he raised the sword over his should and swung it like a baseball bat, forcing the energy to change paths and fly back to the waiting warriors, who appeared to be extremely weakened by their efforts.  
  
Without hesitation, Katsuro slit open his left wrist with the tip of his black sword, relishing the smell of fresh blood, even if it was his own. He was tempted to lick the blood off of his flesh, but resisted as he dug the tip of the sword in further, waiting to feel the energy enter his body. Slowly, like a drug taking effect, Katsuro felt more powerful- invincible. His senses were heightened; he could feel the power of the three warriors that stood against him.  
  
While the energy was still rushing into his system, Katsuro glanced up, curious to see how Sage, Cye, and Rowen were fairing. All three of them were lying on the floor, their limbs spread out like dolls that were carelessly thrown onto the ground. Taking advantage of his perfect eyesight, Katsuro detected they were still breathing.  
  
Slowly, Cye, Sage, and Rowen stood up, grimacing as each regained his posture. Kento joined them, assisting Cye as he pushed himself up to a standing position.  
  
"All right, man, that was some dirty trick!" Kento said, his face glowing with fury.  
  
Katsuro bowed in response, amused by the boy's anger.  
  
"You really pissed me off now! You're in some deep shit now that you pissed off a Ronin Warrior!"  
  
"I... thought we were supposed to be drained completely..." Cye said, leaning on Kento's shoulder.  
  
"We were, but we held back. I can speak for all of us when I say that we're more than hesitant. We can't be scared of hurting him anymore. We'll die here," Sage said, his face set with determination.  
  
"Did you see what he did?" Cye asked, his voice wary.  
  
"Yeah, he boomeranged our energy back at us, while absorbing the brunt of it with that sword. He's still powering up on our energy," Rowen said, weakly motioning towards Katsuro with his hand.  
  
"Tired already, /I?" Katsuro called out, a tone of mockery obvious in his tone.  
  
"One more time then," Kento said, stoically, trying his best to bite back a snappy retort, "With me."  
  
"Right then," Sage answered, nodding.  
  
"No holding back," Rowen said.  
  
"No... holding back," Cye repeated, less confidently.  
  
"Iron Rock Crusher!"  
  
"Arrow Shockwave!"  
  
"Thunderbolt Cut!"  
  
"Super Wave... Smasher!"  
  
Unlike before, a bolt of energy was not created. When the four powers combined, it was as if a bomb had exploded, leaving the four Ronins untouched as it radiated from their armors. It made its way to Katsuro, who made no effort to block the oncoming attack. The brilliant sphere of white light enveloped him, who looked so small in the gigantic ball of power.  
  
A scream of pain and terror wrenched the hearts of the four Ronins, as they stood their ground- unrelenting. Katsuro's cries were filled with rage as well as surprise as he faced the wrath of his once fellow warriors. Sage and Rowen's faces were set, unwavering in their efforts. Kento cringed, but grit his teeth and continued. Tears spilled out from Cye's eyes. How he hated to hurt Ryo. Katsuro's screams were tearing his heart, but he knew he shouldn't stop. He had to save Ryo. Ryo was in there, somewhere deep inside of Katsuro.  
  
Slowly, the light vanished, retreating back towards the Ronins, who were all panting heavily, barely able to keep themselves upright. One by one, they fell to the ground, their armors clattering with the stone floor, which was no longer strewn with large pieces of rock. All that remained were piles of dust and small pebbles, only shadows of their former might.  
  
From his position on the ground, Cye looked up, terrified to see what had become of Katsuro. He could no longer hear the warrior screaming; he could hear the light whispers of ash settling and his fellow warriors breathing heavily. Cye's own breath was labored, and soon, he began coughing, the ash had found its way into his lungs. After a moment, he calmed himself, his mouth dry and his tongue heavy from both ash and fatigue.  
  
"So, who's going over to... check?" Cye asked, furiously trying to wipe away the tears that had streaked down his face.  
  
"How about we all go?" Rowen suggested, his voice unusually quiet and hesitant.  
  
"Let's take off our armor first. It's too heavy, and plus, it won't do us any good," Sage said, once again assuming the position of the leader.  
  
One by one, the warriors shed their armor, clothed only in their subarmor, which Kento complained was still too heavy. They half crawled, half dragged themselves over to where Katsuro was lying, strewn across the marble floor, still surrounded by large boulders that were placed around his body like a fortress.  
  
"He obviously blocked a lot of the attack. Look at the pieces of rock, a lot of them are still whole," Rowen said, motioning to the boulders.  
  
"The question is, how much of the attack was he able to block?" Cye murmured.  
  
Sage cautiously moved up to Katsuro, kneeling down beside him. He carefully rolled him onto his back. Katsuro was limp and unmoving.  
  
"It's Ryo, right?" Kento asked, hope ringing in his voice.  
  
The Ronins circled around the figure on the floor, attempting to half climb, half lean on the gigantic rocks. He did indeed look like the Ryo they had once known and loved. The features appeared to be softer, and the expression of malice and rage was no longer visible to them.  
  
"He looks so innocent, like the old Ryo," Cye pointed out.  
  
Sage lifted his fingers to Katsuro's neck, searching for a pulse. He smiled softly as his fingers were met with a soft thumping, relieved that Ryo was still alive in there, somewhere.  
  
"It's weak, but it's there," Sage said, brushing the hair away from Katsuro's forehead. He slowly examined Katsuro, making sure he wasn't hurt anywhere else. He discovered that three of his ribs were broken, and he had endured a concussion. He also noticed that the fallen warrior had various bruises dotting his skin.  
  
"Hey, what about the blood, dude?" Kento asked, lifting Katsuro's arm so Sage could better examine the source of the blood.  
  
Sage's brows furrowed as he flipped Katsuro's arm over, revealing a wrist covered in a thin coating of blood.  
  
"Hmm, we didn't do this. He must have cut himself with his sword in order to better absorb our energy," Sage concluded.  
  
"I've never heard of that technique before," Rowen began, "It sounds... dark."  
  
"The use of blood often is," Sage remarked quietly, slowly putting Katsuro's arm back on the ground.  
  
"Time to go?" Cye asked hesitantly.  
  
Sage stood up from his crouching position, dusting his knees off. He ruffled a hand threw his hair, which was covered in a fine sheet of ash. He paused a moment, savoring the feeling of his heart assuming its normal, slow pattern. He turned to his friends, who were still gathered around Katsuro's body. All the Ronins were covered in ash; their faces masked by the dark soot, making them look like demonic in a way.  
  
His eyes softened in concern when he noticed clean lines of skin on Cye's faces, created by tears that had no doubt streaked across his face. Sage walked over to Cye and put a hand on his shoulder in support.  
  
"It's okay now, Cye, really. Theoretically, Ryo's physical injuries shouldn't transfer over to what we call the real world, " Sage said softly, trying to smile.  
  
Cye nodded slowly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He slowly turned away from Katsuro and his fellow warriors, trudging back to the far wall.  
  
"Man, he must feel guilty," Rowen mumbled.  
  
"Either that, or he has to take a piss and doesn't want us gawking!" Kento said, his voice ringing out, forcing Cye to look back, a mask of sadness still present on his features.  
  
"Kento!" Sage said sharply, giving Kento an admonishing look.  
  
"Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood, man," Kento said, holding his hands up in defense.  
  
Sage raised his eyebrows, ready to lecture Kento, but closed his mouth when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The blonde looked over to discover Rowen staring deeply into his eyes, telling him he didn't have time.  
  
Sighing, Sage walked over to Katsuro and knelt down next to his limp figure. He placed his hands on the sides of the warrior's face and closed his eyes. Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot up threw his body, forcing his muscles to spasm, but he didn't let go of Katsuro's face.  
  
"Is that supposed to hurt?" Kento asked, kneeling down next to Sage.  
  
"I...don't know!" Sage answered, gritting his teeth.  
  
"Cye, come over here!" Rowen exclaimed, kneeling on the other side of Sage.  
  
Immediately, Cye ran back towards his friends, his face contorted with confusion. He knelt across from Sage, flanking Katsuro's body.  
  
The Ronins knelt there, squished between the rocks, waiting for Sage to tell them what needed to be done. A sweat broke out across his body, and his face was wracked with pain and concentration. His hair clung to his head, making his blonde hair appear darker than normal.  
  
"Oh... shit!" Sage yelled, jerking his hands away from Katsuro's face as though it was suddenly on fire.  
  
"What? What?" Kento asked, his eyes wide.  
  
"It's not over," Sage answered, turning to look at Kento, his one visible violet eye clouded over with defeat, fatigue, and horror.  
  
Alarmed, Kento looked down at the figure lying on the floor. Katsuro looked so helpless, so innocent. Suddenly, his eyes opened, and slowly Kento understood what Sage had felt, what Sage had /I.  
  
Red eyes, the color of blood met Kento's. And in that split second, Kento understood terror.  
  
A/N: Ah, another cliffhanger. Now, now, friendly reader (and future, soon- to-be-reviewer), don't get frustrated. Your reviews just make the whole process easier, and therefore, faster for you. There may be one or two small grammatical errors, but hey, I'm only proving I'm human. Heh. I'm in the process of four other stories; most of them are just getting started, so in the future, you may see some new stories. Don't worry, I'll remind you... a lot. 


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